


slide through my fingers

by hypsoline



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypsoline/pseuds/hypsoline
Summary: For one second, that one second, Tsuki probably doesn’t remember himself to hate Kuroo.“Your house always smells like you.”





	slide through my fingers

It´s a November day, with November grey skies and timid November rain that seeps through his pores, through the fabric of his shirt, sticks to his skin, to his hair. He grits his teeth, there is a nagging thought at the back of his head, an intrusive feeling that he is forgetting something.

His eyes glaze lazily over the crowd.

Kuroo is late by a few minutes due to traffic and the rain slowing it all down. That one sensation starts creeping up at the nape of his neck when he realizes Tsukishima might be there already, waiting on him, cursing him or turning sour ahead of time over things Kuroo can’t avoid like he sometimes does. His skin feels drier now but also musky. Kuroo takes a quick smell at his pits hopefully not reeking of death by nerves.

Kuroo’s premonition is right however, hidden away in a corner in far sight amidst the moving crowds Tsuki browses his phone. He doesn’t wave back, he doesn’t smile back at Kuroo’s wide grin, it’s Tsukishima so it is to be expected. His fingers slide under his collar adjusting his jacket and the strap of his bag. He is wearing black, usual crow colors, muted in the Tokyo afternoon crowd but for his flaxen hair. Kuroo is still smiling, his eyes daft and linger too long as Tsuki nods at him unimpressed.

They take the train and it’s packed enough Tsukishima doesn’t move away from Kuroo despite being semi mad at him. Kuroo closes his eyes for a second. He can smell skin, sweat and soap and Tsukishima’s cologne he pretends not to wear, the electricity in the air, the coldness of the rain, the silence around them, the rhythm of the moving train.

 

It’s chilly in Tokyo. Experts and tv hosts talk of snow in the north when Kuroo and Bokuto leave their tv on over conversations at their shared apartment. So far it’s just cold rain, grey showers and silver skies but no snow, “Maybe you will bring some with him from Miyagi to settle this weather once and for all!” Kuroo jokes, Tsukishima doesn’t laugh.

 

*

 

His keychains rattle against his keys as he opens the door. Tsukishima throws in a sly grin at the dangling keychains implying Kuroo is childish for having so many, but Kuroo is actually pretty happy with his collection. Mementos from past lives, small volleyball keychains from high school days, one old and tore apart plush cat from a kids movie, a small portable bottle opener.

 

“Heyy~”

He singsongs to nobody inside as he pushes the door open. The apartment is dark and the air is still. Bokuto did make it to his afternoon classes, or maybe he is skipping them for extra practice instead as he sometimes does. Kuroo already went to practice in the morning. A head so full of anticipation it would not let him sleep.

“Nobody home I guess.”

There is a tiny scribbled piece of paper on the kitchen table. He frowns as he picks it up. Messy handwriting and something about Bokuto knowing he would have a crow in the nest tonight (drawn emoji redacted). There’s even a silly doodle of a really ugly cat with and uglier hairdo and a fat glowing moon, its rays holding a pair of glasses. Kuroo smirks but puts it away hastily.

He turns around and stretches, his hoodie lifting above his belly. Tsukishima is looking around however.

“Your house is less of a mess than last time.”

“Thanks I’m glad you noticed. Akaashi stayed over. He kinda does that now.”

“You can’t take care of yourselves that bad?”

“Ouch!”

Tsukishima grins.

“You hungry? We, hum, could have gotten something from the shop but I forgot. We can still go there later for dinner. I think we have some snacks somewhere— or the fridge maybe--“

There are rice leftovers (by Akaashi) Bokuto is saving for the weekend practices (after they’re neatly molded into small triangles with sweet plum filling by Akaashi) so he is unable to touch those. He can’t bother to cook now, not with such a visit. There is beer too, but he is sure either him or Bokuto forgot about grocery shopping. And Akaashi wasn’t around to remind both of them about it. Crap.

“I’m not. But we can get something for later.” Tsukishima is factual and slightly annoyed, but practical. He grabs his coat again.

 

It’s not the first time Tsukishima has visited, otherwise this would have been avoided in order to impress him.

But there are classes, and shifts, and morning runs by the river and practice and Kuroo can only hold so much in the expectation of his beating heart. Not all is bad, the house is clean, Kuroo made sure of it. This it is probably the first time the floor is remotely clear of clothes and other things. It’s not Kuroo’s fault, honest. He does get sloppy from time to time, but not to the degree Bokuto does: always staying up late, waking up at ungodly hours to jog and go back to sleep, dropping his laundry all over the floor, stealing Kuroo’s food. Which is so unfair, Kuroo’s really good at setting the right times on his rice cooker and his alarm- although he does sleep in way more often. And he does remember to clean the apartment on Sunday - if they’re not too worn-out or lazy by then. Besides Tsukishima may be judging him, but he will get it soon enough, the woes of being a college student. Only one more year at Karasuno, then he will see, how good he had it.

They go back outside right away, facing the rain and the cold just for onigiri from the konbini down the street. They end up getting yakisoba, tonkatsu sandwiches, mustard chips and extra beer for good measure.

 

*

Once again, his keys rattle against the door knob and they’re home again, plastic bags in tow they drop on the small kitchen table. Their jackets drop to the floor and Kuroo leads Tsukishima to his room.

Tsukishima approaches and closes the distance. His skin feels icy and moist from the run outside, he almost smells faintly of grass. Kuroo lets his eyes flicker over him until the other boy is but a blur and a sensation on his lips. That’s how he imagines himself in Tsukishima’s eyes too, a blur, when he takes off his glasses.

He likes seeing how and the moment when Tsukishima closes his lids, gives in to the kiss, gives in to him so softly.

For one second, that one second, Tsuki probably doesn’t remember himself to hate Kuroo.

“Your house always smells like you.”

*

Tsukishima keeps his lids shut, lets his mouth open, his heart somewhere else Kuroo is not able to find, to touch perhaps, but is able to feel and hear with a pull at his shirt. Just underneath his ribs, and Tsuki’s pale chest heaves as Kuroo’s fingers linger on him, all soft and pale flesh and Tsukishima sighs and his back arches up and down.

Kuroo looks away for a second, gasping for fresh hair. Tsukishima’s glasses lay neatly on the top of a few of Kuroo’s forgotten school books by his bed.

 

*

 

Maybe he will be easier to see to Tsukishima as a blur. A blank slate instead of a smirk, inky black hair that could belong to anyone else. It’s the scent of his own skin he is sure Tsuki will never be able to erase from his memory, not when they’re together like this. The scent of soap, sweat, smoke, the smell of a guy, another guy.

Maybe he likes it better in order to lose himself to the moment. To not make himself see.

Tsukishima feels different, vulnerable. And Kuroo feels his own stare soften, despite being all too much aware this can change in a snap, how quickly can Tsuki wake up from his bliss. A sudden movement can break this moment. But it never comes, or doesn’t seem to be in the horizon.

How does he really feel about him, Kuroo can’t really tell. Be he isn’t going to ask either. That would be so lame, and their equilibrium is so fragile. Kuroo may not be sure about what Tsukishima likes but he sure knows what he dislikes: boldness, confrontation, feelings, when Kuroo wears bold colors around him…

Kuroo chuckles and holds his laugh and Tsukishima’s eyes flicker back to iciness.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry—I--- not you!”

Tsukishima gets up and starts dressing. It can’t be helped.

“You look nice.”

“Why are you telling me that. I’m not a girl.”

“Ah yeah I’m aware… but you do look nice.”

“Don’t be weird.”

He gets closer. Tsuki’s stares are icy at worst and distant at best, but Kuroo knows what’s underneath his skin, and how hot the fire on the pit of his stomach burns. Tsuki sits next to him on the futon again. A small student room that barely feels that it could hold Tsuki alone much less the both of them together.

Kuroo often wonders what really pulls Tsukishima to him, what makes him gravitate to him, even though he feels so himself to be the only one, a cat starting at the unmoving moon. Is it because he is available? Older? Easy enough on the eyes? Kuroo keeps it simple, uncomplicated. His collection of hair products is proof of some degree of vanity he holds, a stance on his lazy pride to look good and feel good with less effort possible.

He thinks back on a recount of a conversation long gone, the subject of what they had never even discussed. ‘What were they’ felt weird even in thought form. There was nothing at all to say. Tsuki made sure of that by death glares and even deathlier grips on Kuroo’s practice t-shirt, so the latter just let himself go.

 

But for Kuroo it was easy. It was love at first sight.

Or something.

It had to be. Kuroo knows these things, Tsukishima cares so much he would rather die than show it. Maybe. Perhaps. It’s hard to tell. Like the chance of snow in the coming weeks.

It is possible to read some people, it’s impossible to read Tsuki.

But even so, he clings to Kuroo, drops his head on his shoulder, lets the white noise of the rain fill the room.

Just this time, maybe that’s what Tsukishima – _Kei_ -, is thinking every time they’re together, just this time and then he will let go.

Just this time he will let himself cling and be held, afterwards it will be over and nobody will ever know their scents mixed and their senses collided once, twice, a couple times, more than that.

 

It’s okay, his secret is safe with Kuroo.


End file.
